


The Kissing Booth

by terminis



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: A lot of music references, Alternate Universe - High School, Brief References to Shitty Families, Coming Out, Found Family, Kissing, Kissing Booths, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 20:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminis/pseuds/terminis
Summary: “A kissing booth,” North stated, nearly invisible blonde eyebrow raised, voice creeping towards disbelief. “You want me to help you run a kissing booth for the school fundraiser?”York nodded, placing a hand on North’s shoulder, channeling every ounce of drama he had in him. “It’s life or death.”“It’s a kissing booth, York.”





	The Kissing Booth

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [Beta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qhiskey/pseuds/qhiskey)   
>  [Frank Ocean, aka Bi God](https://youtu.be/2SDK_yikIXo)

“A kissing booth,” North stated, nearly invisible blonde eyebrow raised, voice creeping towards disbelief. York, shirtless and dressed in cheap brown sweatpants, and North, who actually put effort into his appearance today by putting on this weird human article of clothing named a ‘shirt,’ which he did halfway as an example for York and the other half because he actually had shame unlike one of his friend’s, stood at the front of the room, right next to the bed, surrounded by dirty clothes. “You want me to help you run a kissing booth for the school fundraiser? And the council accepted this?”

York nodded, placing a hand on North’s shoulder, channeling every ounce of drama he had in him, which, well, considering they were all in the drama club, was a fair amount. “It’s life or death.”

“It’s a kissing booth, York.” North replied, running a hand through his short blonde hair, clearly trying to push down a smile at his friend’s antics. York grinned, knowing that North would help him. That’s one role to fill down. “What’s Wash gonna do?”

“Nothing, ideally,” Wash piped up from a couple of yards away, lounged over the soft couch in York’s room, his daffodil colored t-shirt and black sweatpants contrasting with the light brown of the couch. Both the outfit and the couch seemed darker, however, as the area didn’t have much, if any, light. He took up two spots as he scrolled down Instagram on his phone, which was more or less the only light source in the room, and turned his head upside down to address the two, biting his full, pink lip. “Say, you think we can get Maine to be one of the… kissy people?”

“The people that the customers pay to kiss? Or a customer?” North asked him, going over near the right side of the bed to open up the blinds of the one single window in York’s room, finally getting fed up with the lack of light. He cleared some of the dirty clothing on the ground to the side, taking care not to trip over anything as he couldn’t see that well. Afternoon sunlight streamed into the dark room as North pulled the blinds up as far as he could get them to and Wash brought his hands up to cover his face, flopping over, face pressed to the side of the light brown couch to block out the light. He put his phone in his pocket blindly, supposing that he wouldn’t need to be on it anymore.

“Either,” Wash said, voice slightly muffled from the cushion. He pulled away from it, whining under his breath about the couch being too hot, laying a freckled arm over his eyes. North turned back to stare at York and York grinned, blinding white teeth seeming to light up the room just a tad bit more.

“Well I’ll need somebody to help me run the booth with,” York started, pulling North over to him by the arm, looking him in the eyes as he said the first part. He turned to Wash before saying the next. “And I’ll need somebody to ask him, which you can probably do.”

“What?!” Wash screeched, bolting upright on the couch, arms keeping him upright. York pressed a hand to his ear, wincing slightly. “I can’t— he’s so cool! I can’t talk to him anymore! We were friends like two years ago! He’s, like, a super hot jock now, if I tried to talk to him he’d kill me immediately—”

North was at Wash’s side in an instant, laying a large, white hand carefully on his shoulder, guiding him through breathing. Wash calmed down and turned so that he was facing the TV, hugging his raised knees. “You don’t have to ask Maine, Wash. You don’t have to do anything for the booth, right York?”

York stared at Wash, the ‘hot’ comment about Maine simmering at the front of his mind. Wash had previously only expressed interest in girls. If he liked Maine that added a second non-straight person to the trio, counting York. “Yeah,” He assured belatedly.

“I’ve gotta do something for the booth though,” Wash murmured miserably. York jumped onto North, falling on his lap, acting like he didn’t care that he knocked the wind out of North. York placed his head in Wash’s lap, brown eyes staring up at Wash’s gray.

“You could always be one of the people in the booths. Then Maine could maybe come and you'd get to kiss him,” York told him, putting both hands up to push Wash’s cheeks in. Wash stared at him then bat York’s warm hands away from his face, gagging at York’s, according to North and—secretly—Wash, overly strong cologne. 

“I don’t wanna kiss Maine,” Wash grumbled quietly, leaning on North, dropping his head onto his knees, facing forward, blushing. York raised an eyebrow, and Wash blushed even more, probably breaking a new record in how red somebody’s face could get in three seconds flat. “Okay, look, in my defense he’s very attractive and we were friends and he’s nice but he’s also very, very scary and, well… you know.”

North smiled, looping an arm around Wash’s shoulders, pulling him closer. North’s bony hips poked into Wash’s side and Wash tried to ignore it. He smelled a bit like lavender, conflicting with the room’s natural smell of marijuana—Or, well, York insisted that it was natural. North had found his stash dozens of times but York still tried to play dumb, even though he positively reeked of cheap weed at almost every interval unless he drenched himself in cologne, which he did regardless of if he smoked or not. No wonder he couldn’t get a date.

Wash rolled his eyes, knowing that North was just trying to sap up his body heat by leaning on him. North turned to address him, grinning kindly. “How’s your first male crush feel, Wash?”

“Gay, for one,” Wash replied. York snorted, kicking his leg up, the afternoon sun that streamed into the room brightening his brown sweatpants and half of his bare upper body. The kick just narrowly avoided hitting North in his massive nose and North pushed York’s feet away. In response York smushed his, judging by North’s expression, disgusting smelling foot into North's face and North shoved his leg away, leading to York tackling him and North laughing as they fought.

Wash watched the exchange between his friends with a grin. North got a hand in York’s hair, ruffled it, and York squawked, leaning back. “You’ll mess it up!” York yelled, both hands raised over his slicked back hair as if it was a powerful artifact nobody, including himself, could touch. North stuck his tongue out at him childishly, York sticking his tongue out back. The two stared at each other, the air between them seeming charged.

“I think I should be in one of the booths,” Wash murmured quietly, looking down at the couch, breaking the silence and energy between his friends. York blinked at North, less than a foot separating them, and North pulled away like he’d been shocked, falling off the couch. York turned to look at Wash and it must’ve been the sunlight or some trick with the lighting, because York’s cheeks seemed to be tinted red. “Because, well, I mean… would people even want to kiss me?”

“Are you kidding?” York asked. His voice was slightly higher than usual and he coughed into his fist. His light brown skin still appeared mildly pink and Wash was slightly concerned that he might’ve had a fever or something similar to that. “Everybody wants to kiss you, Wash.”

“Huh?” Wash asked, staring at York. North crawled up onto the couch, sitting as far away from York as the couch would allow him, which, as the couch was pretty small, wasn’t that much. North pushed a dirt-covered football jersey off of the side of the couch and onto the ground, looking at it disgustedly.

“Literally everybody, Wash. You’re hot as fuck, in case you haven’t noticed,” York told him casually. Both North and Wash knew that York would never make a move on Wash, since it was obvious that Wash and York thought of each other as more familial than anything else. 

“That’s fair.” He began, smiling at the praise. York and North looked at him. “I love you guys.” He told them, leaning against the side of the brown couch, placing his legs across York and North’s laps.

“So… You’ll both help with the booth?” York said after a couple of moments of silence. Wash gave him a thumbs up with a smile. North shoved a pillow into his face.

—

“How many people that’ll be in the booths do we need?” North asked professionally, pencil poised over his clipboard which he had for whatever inane reason. York raised a perfectly manicured dark brown eyebrow, regardless of the fact North couldn’t see him, sitting upside down on the couch, the only thing he was wearing being boxers, shirtless and pantless glory exposed so that all of the world could see. 

“I dunno. See if we can get some of the popular people on it? A few of girls and a couple more guys, since we already got Wash,” York replied, blowing out a breath as he tried to play Halo upside down. He stared at the screen expressionless as Master Chief walked off the cliff for the second time in two minutes, even though York was trying to go the completely different direction—

North pushed York’s feet off the top of the couch York’s legs fell onto the cushions, and he straightened himself out, sitting upright with his knees close to his chest. “We need to work on this, York. It was your idea _and_ we only have three days, counting Friday,” North told him, jumping over the couch, falling onto the cushions, his leg on York’s stomach. York pushed him off to the other cushion, turned to look to the screen, and saw that he was once again dead for whatever reason.

The room was dim, with only the light from York’s violet lava lamp that North had bought him that day, insisting that he needed some sort of light in his room, providing illumination in the entire area. It didn’t do much, just lit up the chick flick posters right above it and the beginning of his, as he liked to call it, ‘Wall of Hot Ladies,’ and, as others called it, ‘Wall of random girls that would punch York in the groin if he ever so much as attempted to talk to them.’

“York.” North snapped, throwing York out of his poster-fueled reverie, poking his toned stomach. York stuck his tongue out at North, and North stuck his tongue out back and froze. He scooted away from York.

“What?” York said quietly, reaching a hand out to grab North’s arm. He stopped before he could make contact, realizing that North would probably pull away, based on that short interaction seconds ago. North frowned, placing his pencil tip onto the clipboard despite the fact he had nothing to write down. He bit the inside of his cheek as York looked at him, eyes straining to see in the dim lighting.

“Are we… you know… good?” North asked him, and York frowned, confused. He hadn’t done anything bad that week so far and, although it was only Tuesday, that was a lot better than usual. North looked at him, running a hand through his soft-looking blonde hair. “You know what? It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

“Wait,” York murmured, seeming to get what he was finally asking. He bit his lip, then realized how Wash-like that action was and stopped. They were definitely rubbing off on each other, and not in the fun, sexy way. But, well, judging on how North and his relationship had progressed, it would hopefully be sometime soon that they _would be,_ rubbing off on each other in the much more intimate way. “For that total almost kiss?” 

“It was not an almost kiss,” North replied, frowning. “And yes.” North ran a hand over his nape, deliberately trying not to make eye contact with York. “That.”

“Well, uh. We don’t have to mention it if you wouldn’t like to?” York said, the end of his sentence open for discussion. North seemed to relax, bony shoulders dropping from how tense they had been just seconds before. North nodded, edge of his jaw outlined in bright violet. York knew that North hadn’t really talked about his sexuality before and that he hadn’t even acknowledged he could be anything other than straight, knew that he came from a hardcore Christian family that would most definitely rip their own eyes out while screaming bloody murder if they ever learned that York was bi, which he hadn't told anybody, not even North or Wash, so it was fine that North didn’t want to talk about something that might’ve pointed to him liking boys. Or, well, if North was about to kiss him, then him liking men, because York was most definitely a man and not a boy. 

“Anyways. The Booth. I was thinking that, for the girls, we could do Connie, Carolina, and… 479er?” North began. York nodded excitedly, trying his best to forget the ‘almost kiss’ and what it might mean for them. “For the boys… Wash, uh… Florida? And… Yyou think we could get Maine to?”

“Doubtful,” York replied easily, hands clearing away things on the side table. He closed his hand around a lollipop and held it up triumphantly, tearing the wrapper off, lights too dim to know what flavor it was. He popped it in his mouth, grinning at the butterscotch flavor. “But maybe? If we tag team him…”

“Please stop making so many innuendos,” North told him. York smirked, laying his head onto North’s lap, blinking prettily like he’d seen girls do in all of the old-fashioned movies he’d watched.

“Don’t you like them?” He asked, voice higher in pitch than North thought he could even do. North pushed him away, grinning, trying to ignore his light blush at the proximity. They’d done this before, it just seemed… Different now, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the fact that York was mostly naked. Or the almost kiss. 

“We need to work on the booth,” North told him, smile clear in his voice. York groaned and North once again poked his naturally tanned stomach. “You’re the one that asked me for help.”

“Fine,” York groaned, head thrown back onto North’s thighs, voice holding way too much annoyance for something the person came up with and originally expressed interest in doing. Oh well, North wouldn’t judge. York pushed North’s hand, which had been repetitively poking York, away and got up to a sitting position, leaning against the side of the couch.

“Okay, well, you see, for designs of the booth itself I thought we could…”

—

**yorkthecoolguy** 3:31AM  
hey can y’all do the kissing booth that we’re gonna do on friday @ the fundraiser? u’ll have 2 wear a blindfold so that u rnt disgusted by whoever u kiss tho & it’ll b in shifts @ there’ll be a guy booth & a girl booth & after every, like, 15 mins or so it’ll rotate

**carolina** 3:31AM  
Why are you up at three thirty AM when school starts in less than four hours, York? But yes, I suppose. 

**connniee** 3:32AM  
i can!

**yorkthecoolguy** 3:32AM  
carolina you’re up & this hour too & thank u both so much

**479** 3:34AM  
I can do a booth. 

**yorkthecoolguy** 3:37AM  
ok so… maine & florida can you?

**florida** 3:37AM  
Oh of course! I’m always ready to assist you ( ;

**yorkthecoolguy** 3:38AM  
you terrify me, florida

**TheMaineMan** 6:43AM  
:thumbs_up:

**yorkthecoolguy** 6:43AM  
ok COOL! it’s @ the fundraiser so, like, be ready i guess

—

“Damn,” York said, staring at Wash. Wash looked down at his own outfit, consisting of a bright yellow t-shirt and black, ripped skinny jeans that would definitely be dress coded if a girl was the one wearing them. The setting sun streaming in through the, surprisingly, open window made his bleach blonde hair seem white. 

“Is this too little? Should I dress up more? Maine’s gonna be there and he’s—” Wash began, pacing in York’s room, running a hand through his fluffy hair, not seeming to care about how mussed it was getting in spite of how perfectly he’d had it seconds before.

“You’re fine, Wash. You look good,” York replied truthfully, placing his hands on Wash’s shoulders, having to look up to look him in the eyes. Curse tall people. “Now. You’re gonna kiss a shit ton of people. You will be blindfolded. You’ll kiss a lot of girls—probably—and hopefully a couple guys, etcetera. Now, Wash. If you kiss someone and they’re, like, super good at kissing then you can kiss them again. It’s all up to you, pal.”

“York?” Wash asked quietly, trying to fix his hair in one of York’s mirrors. It… didn’t really work, but Wash really did the ‘messy hair’ aesthetic or whatever the fuck well. York took his hands off of Wash’s shoulders and stepped back, grabbing his phone off the end of his bed, putting it in his jean’s pocket.

“Yeah?” York responded, also grabbing his white-bottled cologne which laid haphazardly on his bed. He jumped onto the messy bed, looked at himself in the mirror above it, and fixed his slicked back hair. Wash watched him, arms crossed.

“Two things. One, for the love of all things holy, only put a bit of that cologne on. It smells disgusting. Two, you’re amazing and I am so, so glad I met you.” Wash told him. York turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in fake hurt, pushing down a sappy grin at the latter statement. 

The way Wash and him met was, well, disastrous. They’d both landed in the nurse’s office at the same time with different accidents during Freshman year or so, and they had to sit there as the nurse put off helping them despite the fact that Wash was bleeding. York had looked at Wash, asked what the fuck had happened to him, told him a couple of shitty pick up lines, leading to Wash punching him in the face and beginning to cry because he felt terrible about it. Needless to say, they started eating lunch together after that and were nearly inseparable by summer. Now, junior year, they were still close. Pretty sure all three in the trio were glad of that.

“Is the cologne really that bad?” York asked, his voice making it sound as if he was three seconds away from crying. Wash rolled his eyes and punched York’s, for once, clothed arm lightly.

“Also?” Wash said, eyes flitting to the violet lava lamp then back to York. York smiled nervously, not quite sure what Wash was going to say, just knowing that it was going to be something about North. “Kiss North. Please.”

“What?” York asked, forcefully chuckling. Wash stared at him as if he was a complete idiot, gray eyes boring into York’s face.

“I’m not that oblivious, York,” Wash told him, hands on his hips. York raised an eyebrow and Wash stuck his tongue out. They really _were_ rubbing off on each other.

York paused for a minute, putting on only a bit of cologne because Wash was a bitch and apparently didn’t like it, “You totally are.”

“Am not,” Wash told him, hands on his hips. York pushed himself off of the bed and looked up at Wash with an easy grin, getting his keys from the bright white windowsill Wash had sat down on. 

“Are too.”

“We’re going to be late to pick up North.”

“Let’s go. You’re still oblivious.”

“Fuck you.”

—

The booths were set up on the dark stage, painted dark red and gold. The words ‘Kissing Booth’ were at the front of the stage, painted a metallic gold—the same shade as the stripes on the booths—on a rickety stand that York had had to set up just half an hour before the booths were set to open. To the side of the stand was an advertisement for $5 a ticket, painted in a dark maroon. On the booth was a basket full of mints that Wash had watched York buy just earlier that day and had promptly yelled about for fifteen minutes afterwards, the yelling boiled down to the fact that mints didn’t need to cost thirty dollars.

The gym was already full of people at other parts and attractions for the fundraiser, mostly inspired by things you’d see at a carnival. While Wash didn’t like seeming narcissistic, he felt as if he could safely say that the kissing booth was, by far, the best one. Second best was probably the Bowling Pin Knock Down, if only because it got shut down because one of the the people that bought a ticket threw a ball at the principal and then got suspended.

York tapped Wash’s shoulder, bringing him back to the present. “Starting in a few,” York yelled over the disco pop blasting in the gym. Wash gave him a thumbs up, smiling nervously.

He wasn’t quite ready to kiss so many people. Like, sure, he’d known when he first said he’d help with it that it’d be a lot of people but, well, there were a _lot_ of people. Oh, whatever. He could handle it. 

North and York assembled at the front of the stage. York tossed North a microphone and North held it to his face, back facing Wash. North ran a hand down his violet dress shirt, trying to smooth it down, as he looked out to the massive crowd.

“Hello all! The booth will be opening in about three minutes! It’s five dollars for a ticket and there’s a basket of mints, which you are very, very strongly suggested to have at least one of. We hope to see you there!” North broadcasted, voice heard across the gym. People began to walk towards the lights of the booth, joining up with friends, going into the lines. The one to the left was for those who wanted to kiss their fellow male students, the one for the right was for those who wanted to kiss female students. “For the male booth we have Wash, Florida, and Maine, for the female booth we have Connie, Carolina, and 479er. They’ll be going in that order.”

York tapped North on the shoulder and pointed his thumb in the direction of the left wing, which Wash was hiding in. He leaned in close to North to say something, whatever it was lost to the steadily growing noise of the crowd. York began to walk towards Wash and Wash began to pace, trying to squash down the nerves.

“Hey, Wash!” York said, grinning. He clapped his hand down on Wash’s shoulder, dark brown dress shirt contrasting with the light brown of the backstage wooden walls. “You got your blindfold?”

Wash held up the black cloth and York gave him a thumbs up, running a hand through his perfectly slicked back hair. “The lines are uh. Very long.” Wash murmured, looking out of the wings. 

“You think you can handle it? We can always switch you out,” York told him. Wash smiled at him, pulled him close, and hugged him as hard as he could. Wash released him from the hold pretty quickly, grinning.

“You’re so fucking good, York. Thank you. I’ll be fine,” Wash replied. York looked at him, eyebrows raised. Wash smiled at him and York finally smiled back, dim theater lights coming in illuminating his blinding white teeth bright red.

“They grow up so fast,” York said, fakely wiping a tear from his eye. Wash pushed him away and walked out of the wings, trying to ignore how abnormally large the crowd was. North pushed a chair up to the booth and Wash sat down, putting the blindfold on. His vision went dark as Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ blasted over the speakers.

North tapped his shoulder. “You’ve got a minute.” Wash blindly gave him a thumbs up and put his elbows on the booth, holding his head up with both hands. The song changed to Marvin Gaye and groans were heard across the gymnasium at the poor music taste. 

“We’ll be starting now! Once again, to the left is Wash and to the right is Connie. There are mints here. Please, for the love of everything in the world, take a mint. Tickets are $5,” North announced. The crowd became louder as more people presumably flocked to the stage, at least noisy enough for Wash to clearly hear. 

Boots audibly clacked as whoever owned them walked across the wood stage. The person sighed as the chair across from Wash creaked, most likely because they sat in it. The chair creaked again as the person leaned forward. Wash dropped his arms as the person grabbed Wash’s face, kissing him softly. Wash kissed back for the duration of all of five seconds, which is when the person leaned back and left as the next walked forward.

And so it continued for what felt like an hour. North finally tapped his shoulder and Wash pushed the chair back, ignoring the rough scrape across the floor, pulling the blindfold off. The dim lights of the gymnasium assaulted his vision and Wash rubbed his eyes.

“Your minutes are up, in case you couldn’t tell,” North told him, grinning. Wash pushed him away and wiped his mouth, trying his best not to look too disgusted about the sheer quantity of people that had kissed him. He walked into backstage through the wings and groaned as the lights grew even darker, so much so he could barely—couldn’t—see two feet in front of him. 

“I’m never kissing anybody ever again,” Wash told the darkness, thrusting a hand out blindly to help him around and make sure he didn’t run into the wall. He stepped forward and hit something that wasn’t quite… A wall. 

He fished his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flash, blinking hurriedly at the sudden brightness. Big brown eyes stared at Wash, mere inches away, and Wash fell back, back hitting the wooden floor painfully, just barely pushing down a screech, room plunging into darkness as his phone fell somewhere distantly. 

“Sorry!” The guy said, voice deep and incredibly, incredibly husky. Wash outstretched his hand blindly, in the direction that his phone had hopefully fallen. His hand hit solid muscle and this time he couldn’t push down a screech. He kicked the guy away and finally tracked down his phone, pointing the bright light up where the guy last was.

Maine‘s massive form greeted him, holding his knee and hopping around, mouth twisted in pain, muttering curses under his breath. Wash stared at the very definitive jock that was also very attractive and was also just kicked by Wash and holy fucking _shit_ Wash had just kicked him in the leg, what a great way to greet somebody after not talking for at least two years—

Wash shot up off the ground, one hand holding his phone the other slightly raised, not touching Maine but feeling as if he wanted to or, well, should. Maine hobbled around for a few more seconds before releasing his knee from its crushing hold and adjusting his weight distribution, not seeming to favor putting much on one that Wash hurt. “Sorry!” Wash told him, repeatedly, voice chalk full of remorse. 

Maine clapped a hand onto his shoulder, effectively shutting him up. Wash nearly fell over from just how strong the other was and maybe, just maybe, he almost fell over because holy fucking shit the guy he’s had a crush on for years and was finally acknowledging said crush had just touched him for the first time since, what, freshman year? When they were in the same class and were lab partners and regularly talked and holy fucking shit Maine got way more attractive and holy fucking shit—

“Chill, Wash,” Maine told him, grinning, eyes hooded. Wash stared at him, mouth slightly open, and smiled back. Maine’s eyes flashed to the bright light and immediately looked away and Wash fumbled, backing away from Maine and turning the flashlight away from him. Wash squatted down and placed the phone on the ground, flashlight facing up, illuminating the back of the stage.

“Sorry,” Wash told him, bright red, backing away some more, feeling like he’d much rather prefer being literally anywhere but here. His back hit the wall and he leapt forward, nearly tripping into Maine. Wash steadied himself and looked up, Maine’s face inches away from his. Neither moved. 

“Um…” Maine said. Wash didn’t move. Neither did Maine. Wash blinked once, twice, and moved to back away, face burning. Maine’s hand shot out and held Wash’s arm loosely, so that he could get out of Maine’s grasp if he really wanted to. “Uh… It’s weird and you just said you’d never kiss anybody again and we haven’t interacted in two years but I really want to—”

Wash smiled, trying to ignore his growing blush, going up on the tips of his toes, wrapping his arms around Maine’s neck. Maine looked down at him, mouth open as if he was going to say something, and Wash kissed him sweetly. His eyes fluttered closed as Maine kissed him back, hands awkwardly placed on Wash’s waist.

Somebody cleared their throat next to the two and Wash pushed Maine away, wiping his face, whipping around to stare at the newcomer. York gave the two a thumbs up and winked repetitively at Wash and Wash pushed down an embarrassed groan.

“Sorry to disturb you two lovebirds but Maine,” York turned to address the taller. He paused, looking at Wash. “Actually, y’know. I can give you both a few more minutes.”

Maine turned back to Wash and kissed him quickly on the lips, then looked back to York. York shrugged. 

“I can go on, I mean, I guess. For a few minutes. Just a few,” York said, looking at the two. Wash grinned as York put on the blindfold. “Lead the way.”

Wash pulled him along to the male booth and pushed him into the chair. York gave him a thumbs up blindly and narrowly avoided smacking Wash in the face.

“Okay, well, apparently York’s going on for Maine,” North announced, looking at Wash with a questioning look. Wash shrugged. Wash approached North and grabbed his arm, pulling him over to York. Wash shoved him into the chair across from York and smiled mischievously. York wrenched North forward, sticking out a hand and grabbing his shoulder, and connected their lips passionately. North’s eyes widened and Wash walked backstage, his work for the day done. 

York screeched behind him and Wash laughed, wrapping his arms around Maine, watching the dust dance in the light of the flashlight.

—

York groaned quietly, dropping his head onto the stage, turning his head to stare at North. North raised a blonde eyebrow, sipping his punch loudly. 

They’d both decided to absolutely not talk about that kiss. At all. Not at all. Not like it was at the front of both of their minds, waiting there, mentally being replayed every time one looked to the other. Maybe they were both annoyed by it because they actually enjoyed the kiss, which they could ignore. 

He sat next to York on the ground, putting his head on the stage too, his ice blue eyes staring into York’s brown. North carefully placed the punch between them. 

“What’s up?” North asked quietly, listening to the gymnasiums chatter of the after-fundraiser crew cleaning up all of the booths. They’d move onto the kissing booth soon enough, meaning North and York had no reason to stick around for any longer. The lights shined intensely down on them, the cleaning crew having decided that the once dim lights wouldn’t really help them be able to restore the gym to its former glory. 

“I’m so fuckin’ tired,” York mumbled, pressing his nose to the cold stage. North got up, brushing off his expensive black pants, and sat on the stage. He chugged the rest of the punch and placed it next to him, knowing the crew would be more than happy to clean it up. They practically cried tears of joy every time there was a spill on the ground they’d be able to mop up.

“I’ll drive,” North offered, pulling York up onto his feet. York went limp, not at all helping North get him onto his feet, and dragged North down. North dropped him onto the dirty ground and York screeched, jumping up, helplessly attempting to dry off the now punch-covered back of his shirt with just his hand.

He looked at North, waving a finger at him menacingly, and North burst out laughing. York stopped and stared at him, jaw dropped, for all of a few seconds before shaking his head. “You’re driving.”

North gave him a thumbs up, walking out of the gymnasium. York jogged to catch up with him, cursing tall people and their long legs for the umpteenth time. 

The cold fall air greeted them and the difference of the stuffy gymnasium to the crisp, chill air of the outside allowed them both to slightly relax. The wet sidewalks were covered in caramel and scarlet leaves and they crackled as North and York ran to York’s shitty car to get out of the freezing cold and get away before the skies began their normal fall downpour.

North opened York’s car’s passenger door and motioned to it, bowing overdramatically, cheeks red from the slight exertion of the run. Maybe it was an apology for the kiss, or maybe it was because of the kiss. Just maybe. 

North could see both his and York’s breath in the air and desperately wished for some sort of heat. York pushed him away and got in, closing the door. North grinned at him and went to the other side, getting in just as it began to rain. York handed North the keys and North jammed the car key into the slot, cranking up the heat the second the car rumbled to life. He hunched down to keep his head from hitting the roof of the car as York unbuttoned his brown shirt, tearing it off.

“Why are you taking your shirt off, York?” North asked him, sounding slightly embarrassed, stepping on the pedal lightly as he drove out of the parking lot. York didn’t reply, focused on finding something. North slammed on the brakes just before he drove out onto the busy streets, turning to York quickly. “Where’s Wash?”

York finally looked up, bright pink lollipop held in hand. “He’s with Maine,” York replied, leaning over to turn on the radio, arms flexing slightly. North bit his lip and once again started driving, going the usual route to York’s home. York turned up the volume on the radio and some Will Smith song started playing full blast. York changed the radio manually until he stumbled upon a radio playing an already started Frank Ocean song. York leaned back, seemingly satisfied, and North turned back to look at the roads slow traffic, the windshield wipers clearing the glass of rain. Bright red lights shined in both of their faces and neither paid much attention to it, minds focused on other things.

“Hey, North. You know what this guy and I have in common?” York asked, turning to him, putting a bare foot on North’s seat, because he clearly couldn’t wear shoes or socks or both for more than two hours. North raised an eyebrow, eyes still focused on the now moving traffic. “Both bisexual Gods.”

North slammed on the brakes and York‘s seatbelt just barely saved him from flying out the window. North blinked hurriedly and turned to York, blue eyes opened wide in shock. York’s stomach clenched, almost like he was afraid of what North would say. But who cares? Not York. Obviously not York. “Frank Ocean isn’t straight?!”

York stared at him and North pulled off the road, realizing that they probably shouldn’t be stopped in traffic. York ran a hand through his slicked back hair and sighed. “North… North I literally just told you I was into guys and you only care about fucking _Frank Ocean?_ ”

“It’s surprising,” North replied, forcing out a chuckle. York held his face in his hands, seeming incredibly overly disappointed.

“North. Frank Ocean literally has a song where he talks about a dude he’s in love with referring to him as Forrest Gump. He has a song about unrequited love with male pronouns. North. Holy fucking shit.” Well, when York put it like that, the disappointment seemed valid.

North mulled over that for a split second before exclaiming “But he has a ton of songs about girls! And you like Carolina! I’m so confused!”

“That’s the bisexual thing, man. Men and women are attractive to you. Your dating pool doubles. Besides, Carolina’s crushing on Kimball. I haven’t wanted to be with her for weeks,” York told him calmly, tearing off the wrapping of the lollipop and biting into it with an audible crunch.

“Carolina‘s what?!” North screeched. York held his ear, biting into the lollipop again calmly. He raised an eyebrow at him as the song changed to some other rap song, something with a calm intro that talked about November as a metaphor or some shit. The streetlight above them flickered.

“Holy shit. You really _are_ oblivious. Next you’re gonna say you haven’t noticed that I've been trying to get into your pants since last month.” York murmured, loud enough so that North could just barely hear him.

“That you’ve been trying to— What is happening?” North asked miserably, dropping his head onto the car wheel. York patted his shoulder, slowly rolling down the window by turning the crank. He chucked the lollipop stick into the grass of the nice suburban neighborhood they were parked next to and York motioned for him to keep driving, the streets before them covered in steadily drumming rain and golden yellow, crimson, and russet leaves.

The next few minutes it took to drive to York’s dingy house passed in near silence, with the radio and the rain being the only noises. York poked his head out of the window, not seeming to care about the pouring rain falling onto his face, and watched the same scenery he saw everyday when driving to and from school, the flooded football field he and North played on when they were younger, Carolina’s house, etcetera. North pulled into the driveway of the house and York got out, picking up his punch-covered shirt. He didn’t seem to care about the rain, walking as he always did to the front of his single story house, frowning in distaste at the overgrown lawn that he was more than equipped to clean up. York turned to look at North from the cover of the roof, an eyebrow raised. North opened the car door and yanked the key out of the slot, sprinting across the lawn to get under cover before he got completely soaked, failing miserably.

North handed York his keys and York unlocked the door, going inside, dragging North along with him by the arm. The smell of weed which, as always, inhabited the house greeted the two, causing North to lose himself once again in some strange fantasy where his family gave him money so he could buy a ton of air fresheners and just let them loose in every single room in York’s house.

York went all the way to his room, closed the door when they were both inside it, and finally released North, who stood, confused. York opened his closet and picked up a Panic! at the Disco t-shirt, holding it out to North. He dropped his brown button up onto the ground since he couldn’t put things where they belonged, like, say, a hamper. 

“You’re cold aren’t you?” York asked. North took the black t-shirt, rubbing his rain-covered neck. He turned away from York and pulled his wet shirt off. He put the t-shirt, which positively reeked of York’s cologne, over his head. He did his best to ignore the smell and stood awkwardly. “Want some different pants?” York continued, looking down at North's now soaked dress pants. North took them off, too, and shivered slightly. He shook his head quickly to try to get rid of some of the water in his hair and to say no to the question, feeling as if all of York’s pants would either be dirty or would smell like the cologne that North could just barely handle. York laughed at him and held out a towel he got from God knows where.

“Thanks,” North said quietly as he toweled off his hair as if he’d just gotten out of a shower. York jumped onto the bed and kicked off his pants before crawling under the covers, tracking rain everywhere.

North sat on the right side of his bed, towel wrapped around his shoulders, looking like he could be on the cover of some borderline porn magazine that North saw in far too great of an abundance in York’s room. “You’re welcome, nerd.” York told him, sticking his tongue out, now wet hair falling into his eyes. He ran a hand through it as if he meant to tame it and it flopped back.

“Hey York?” North began quietly. York nodded his head, trying to tame his hair now with both hands. “Why’re your parents never home?”

York paused. “They uh. They don’t really live here,” York said, trying for casual and missing the mark by a mile. When York finished talking, a strike of lightning brightened the room and North scooted closer to him, the violet lava lamp and now striking lightning giving off the only light in the room.

“Shitty family?” North asked quietly, crawling up the bed to sit next to him. York bit his lip and nodded shortly, eyes trained away from North. North looked out to the edge of the room, the part that the light just barely illuminated, a shelf covered in action figures and football trophies from when York was younger and didn’t yet know North or Wash.

North met York at a _pool party,_ of all things, and they had both decided that they hated the person the party was made for and decided to band together to rain hell on the kid when they were a measly thirteen years old. They both got kicked out from the pool because York shoved tomatoes he’d gotten from North that North had gotten from wherever the hell into the kid’s swim trunks. It was an interesting start to a friendship, to say the least.

“Guess that’s a requirement of the trio. You, me, and Wash, all with our shitty parents.”

North turned to look at him, ‘I don’t have shitty parents,’ burning on the tip of his tongue. What instead came out was: “Wash has shitty parents?” And, well, maybe that proved some fact that he’s been trying to repress for however long.

York nodded and sat up, turning to face North with a serious look on his face. “Why were you so weirded out about Frank Ocean being bi?”

“He’s the guy that made me realize I was gay,” North blurted out. He paused and inwardly screamed for about fifteen seconds, burying his face in his hands. “I did not mean to say that.”

“That’s valid. The dude that made me realize I was bi was fuckin’ Christian Slater JD. From Heathers. The dude that… well, you've watched the movie,” York murmured. North scooted closer to him and York pressed a leg against North’s. North shivered at how warm York was and leaned closer.

“We should kiss again,” North said. York looked at him and once again North internally screeched because he really, _really_ did not mean to say that. York finger-gunned and North couldn’t quite decide if he regretted befriending him or if he just instantly fell in love. He decided it was a mix of both as York leaned in close and, okay, they actually were going to kiss.

York had very, very soft lips, a fact North had figured out what might’ve been just an hour before and well, it progressed past chaste very, very quickly and North didn’t quite care because holy shit he actually liked York and holy shit he was _just now realizing it._ North pressed York against the headboard and peppered his neck in kisses. He pulled back and smiled at York’s dilated pupils as York leaned in to kiss him again. North allowed it for a few more seconds before once more pulling back.

“Are we dating?” North asked quietly. It was moving all very, very quickly, but North couldn’t quite bring himself to care, not when York was sitting there, shirtless, pupils blown, looking as gorgeous as always. York snaked a hand under North's t-shirt and North just remembered that neither of them were wearing all that much clothing and okay he could totally handle this. He pushed York’s hand away and York frowned and— Was he _pouting?_

“Well, I think so. But we don’t have to progress more than kissing for a while if you don’t want to. I’ve been doing that left hand shame for a while. I’m sure I can continue doing so for however long—” York started. North kissed him to shut him up because York tended to ramble when he was nervous, which meant North was the one making York nervous. He was pretty sure he enjoyed that fact.

“Just one more thing,” North murmured into the air quietly, his breath ghosting over York’s face. York shivered slightly and North just barely pushed down a laugh as he leaned closer, placing a hand onto York’s warm chest, pressing him further against the headboard. “York, for the love of fuck, throw that cologne away. If I ever smell it again I am going to break up with you. That’s not an exaggeration.”

“Deal,” York said, pulling him closer. North chuckled and kissed him again because he could do that now and nobody could tell him off. They should’ve done gotten together way, way sooner.

—

Wash knocked on the door again, checking his phone, trying to fix his hair. He sent another text to York and smiled as he finally heard some movement coming from the house. The door opened slowly and North greeted him, half naked, a finger pressed to his mouth, afternoon sunlight streaming in through the open door seeming to be the only thing light in the immediate vicinity of the house.

“York’s sleeping,” North murmured quietly as Wash went inside of the house, toeing off his shoes at the entryway. The door closed quietly and Wash looked at North’s bare legs. North rubbed his neck, seeming slightly embarrassed but still not saying anything or attempting to cover up. Wash breezed past him and went to the living room, North following him.

“You totally fucked,” Wash finally accused, grinning, opening the blinds on one of the windows. He jumped onto the black sofa, sunlight brightening everything about him, making him seem like a cherub.

North threw his hands up, blushing bright red, and Wash laughed joyfully, stretching out over the couch to the point where he couldn’t even fully fit onto it. He breathed in the smell of some weird candle that smelled slightly of pine and clashed with the weed that York was still clearly trying to get rid of. “We didn’t! We just kissed! A couple of times! A few times!”

“A lot of times,” York said, materializing from the hallway, voice rough from sleep, hair sticking every which way. North smiled, seeming to relax, and Wash stuck his tongue out at the two. York pushed Wash’s legs off the couch, sat down in the middle cushion and North joined the two on the far end. Wash once again stretched his legs out, covering both York and North’s laps in an act of rebellion.

“Hey, York? ” Wash asked quietly, tapping his foot against North’s thigh to the beat of a song who’s name he’d forgotten. York’s neighbors began their daily Wine and Cheese hour where they watched telenovelas so loudly that everybody on the block could hear and wondered where the everloving fuck they got speakers that big, and the three blocked it out as they did daily. “Can I move in with you?”

“If you do dishes and clean up after yourself, yes,” York replied, not giving himself even half of a second to think. Wash blinked.

“Really?” Wash murmured, seeming confused. York patted his knee, grinning. Wash hugged him, breathing in the incredibly shitty cologne he _still had_ and smiling at the familiarity. North cleared his throat loudly and Wash released York from the hug.

“I’m moving in too, then,” North said. York blinked, as did Wash, and North shrugged. “Shitty parents. Plus, if you and York had a house together I’m nearly—no, I am sure that it would never get clean.”

York and Wash both stuck their tongues out at North at the same time, before tackling him, too, in a hug, because they were young and the world sucked and they could do whatever the fuck they wanted.

North tried to smooth down York’s hair, York summoned a lollipop out of what seemed like thin air, and Wash sent off a text. Everything was right back to normal, with the addition of two relationships and a rough idea of a future plan, with York, North, and Wash all living in York’s rambler, away from their blood relations and with their found family. 

Well, life certainly changed a lot in just a week. And all because of a shitty, school fundraiser kissing booth, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://souths-armpit-hair.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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